Tales from Bullworth Academy
by INMH
Summary: A bunch of Bully drabbles compiled into one story. Titles based off of LJ 50 words challenges. Enjoy…
1. Photography

Tales from Bullworth Academy

Rating: PG-13/T

Genre: General/General

Summary: A bunch of Bully drabbles compiled into one story. Titles based off of LJ 50 words challenges. Enjoy…

Author's Note: These were too short to be called full one-shot stories, so… Here you go.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bully. Rockstar Vancouver does.

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Photography (Trent/Kirby)

--

It was blatant voyeurism, he knew that. But hey- he was _supposed_ to take pictures for photography class, and as long as they were taken well, Ms. Philips really didn't care what they showed. Well, she drew a line at anything inappropriate outside of a bedroom, as Earnest had figured out last week…

But taking pictures of Kirby was perfectly acceptable. Even if he didn't know he was being photographed.

So really, it was stalking.

Now, in Trent's defense, he could just as easily have been taking pictures of the other football team members, and could easily play that off to Ms. Philips if she asked what the subject of the pictures was. "I was inspired by the football team members. Well, really only the small, cute brunette in the foreground…"

Trent zoomed in on Kirby again, watching as the Jock tried to keep up with Burton's orders as they were barked from the side of the field. Lord, he was so cute when he was working out… Trent started sharply as he nearly slipped off the branch of the tree he was sitting on, and quickly regained his balance.

Heaven help him if Kirby found out about this. Well- maybe if he was shown the pictures later, he wouldn't mind so much; but if the other Jocks found out about this (even though Kirby seemed to be sweetly oblivious to the fact they already knew he was Bi), then Trent would pay in blood. The aggressive, 'I'll-gouge-your-spleen-out-with-a-pen' attitude would have unnerved anyone else, but for Trent, it was a turn-on.

He snapped off a picture. In an enlightening moment of intelligence, he'd thought to turn the flash off, to avoid attracting attention. He glanced at the screen on the camera- ooh, a good one. Maybe he could do a little enhancing on it…


	2. Hidden

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Hidden (Seth/Ivan Oo?)

--

The Prefect came upon the clique-less student after second block classes. The notoriously sleepy teenager was hobbling along the path between the school and the parking lot, wincing slightly as he moved. Seth Kolbe smirked; what a perfect set up… A free shot at Ivan, and the day wasn't even over yet.

"Alexander," He remarked, that damnable smirk still glued to his face. Ivan winced- and it probably wasn't from whatever he was limping from.

"Kolbe. Well, this was a nice talk, now if you'll excuse me-" He moved to limp around the older boy, and cringed when he was grabbed by the shoulder and dragged back.

"Come _on_, Alexander, it's been a while since we've talked." Ivan snorted.

"Yeah, fifteen hours…"

"It's long to me." The smaller boy rolled his eyes and made another attempt at leaving. Seth blocked him with one over-sized arm. "Knock that off already. It's not like I'm going to hurt you or anything."

"Yeah, like you didn't last night."

"Unless I'm mistaken," His voice was quieter now, making sure only the two of them could hear. "You were the one who was asking me to go 'faster' and 'harder'."

"Not so hard that I would _limp_ in the morning…"

"Well, you should make yourself clear next time."

"Hard to keep things straight when someone's banging you into a mattress." Seth chuckled.

"You know you're looking forward to doing it again."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever- just go easy next time."

"Wimp."

"Asshole."

"Ironic wording."

As Seth strode off, still smirking broadly, Ivan vaguely heard Algie say something to Bucky nearby. "That sadistic jerk, making fun of Ivan when he's in pain… Way he was smirking, you'd think he'd done it himself…"

Ivan snickered quietly and hobbled off to the Boy's Dorm.


	3. Study Time

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Study Time (Gary/Petey)

--

"I give up."

Gary dropped the pencil and flatly dropped his head onto Petey's back, burying his head between the smaller boy's shoulder blades. Petey jumped a little; he'd been expecting the declaration, but hadn't expected to feel Gary's head on his back. "Come on, Gary… Don't give up yet…"

"We've been at it for four hours, Petey. Meds or no meds, I don't have that type of patience." He grumbled into Petey's back. Petey sighed. He had, since ten o' clock that morning, been trying to teach Gary the basics of Algebra 2, following a particularly dismal grade on a test.

Mr. Styler(1) had been as gentle as possible while telling his former fellow asylum inmate, but it had done little to soften the blow. The fact was, Gary was just below the passing mark in math, and if he didn't bring it up, things were going to get messy. So, Petey had naturally offered to help, hoping he'd be able to at least give Gary enough information to keep his head above water.

Needless to say, it wasn't working.

Gary was nearly in tears from frustration; he wouldn't cry when sad, not when angry, not when depressed, but let him get too frustrated and the tears would come. Petey was getting frustrated as well- not as much as Gary, obviously- about how to give the information to Gary so that it would stick. Some people just had trouble retaining facts, and ADD or no, Gary was one of those people.

So, after four hours of lying on their stomachs and trying to analyze a load of formulas and concepts, the scarred boy had finally broken down.

Petey tapped Gary's hand. "Gary." No response. "_Gary_." Gary picked his head up a little and met Petey's eyes over the smaller boy's shoulder. "Come on, come here." Gary took a deep breath and pulled himself back up again. Petey ran his hand up and down his friend's arm in a comforting motion.

"Why do you bother? I'm a lost cause."

"No you're not. You're just having some trouble retaining this." Petey mumbled stubbornly, flipping through the book with his eyes narrowed. "I'll find a way to make it stick if it kills me." Gary made a little noise.

"Please, feel free to stop before it kills you. I'm nowhere near _that_ desperate to pass math." He sighed. "Can we take a break? My head hurts." Petey nodded and flipped the book shut, yawning. He rolled over onto his back, and Gary rested his head on the younger boy's stomach.

"So," He mumbled, shutting his eyes. "If you can't make it stick, what other options do I have?"

"I'll make it stick."

"You sound so confident."

"I can be a stubborn pain in the ass when I want to be."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Pete."

-

1: The new math teacher I'm introducing in Bull and Boar. Trust me, he's a very... _Interesting_ character.


	4. Spring

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Spring (Juri/Constantinos)

--

"It's not spring, dammit!"

"Look; I may not be the smartest person at Bullworth," Juri said flatly. "But I know when it's spring." They were on the sandy alcove just off the bridge that led from the academy to Bullworth Town.

Constantinos _hated_ spring, as did many who had vicious allergies to flower pollen, cheery attitudes, sunlight and basically anything that signified life and happiness. It was irritating to him. Juri, however, loved the springtime- it meant football practice without ice on the field, keeping in mind that he had a coach whose word was that 'broken bones are no excuse for missing practice!'

Also, it meant that no one would be wearing heavy clothing any more. You'd be shocked at how hard it is to subtly grope your boyfriend when he's wearing three pairs of pants and four jackets. Constantinos wasn't crazy about being groped in public, and it wasn't like Juri could ask him to shed a layer or two, so groping season had arrived!

Constantinos was wrong- it _was_ spring. He was only wearing two layers of everything now, and didn't bother wearing a hat. Yes, it was spring all right… He knew that as well as Juri did, but he had a problem coming to terms with a fact he hated.

"I will _prove_ to you that it's not spring!" Constantinos snarled. Even when he knew he was wrong, he did not enjoy being contradicted. He caught sight of a patch of ice that was still clinging to the mini-beach, and automatically went to it to prove his (pretty much defeated) point. Juri was apprehensive.

"Constantinos, what are you- ARE YOU INSANE?" The Russian boy yelped as Constantinos coolly stepped onto the ice. It was an unbelievably risky- not to mention totally stupid- move. "Get off there!"

"No! I'm trying to prove that it-" He punctuated the word with another risky move- a stomp of the foot,

"Constantinos!"

The Jock's plea was ignored. "-is-" Stomp. "-Not-" Stomp-

_**CRASH.**_

That last stomp had done it; the ice gave way, and Constantinos didn't even have time to scream before he fell through the smashed plate. He wasn't under for more than a few seconds before he felt Juri seize his arm and yank him back onto dry land, dragging him through ice and water.

Shaking like a leaf, the dark haired boy made a squeaking noise that seemed to be a cross between embarrassment and the cold combination of water and relatively cold air. "That was stupid! So stupid! You scared me half to death!" Juri ranted, pulling off his jacket and slinging it around Constantinos' shoulders. "Don't ever do that again!"

"S-Sorry…" Juri grunted and curled an arm around the smaller boy's shoulders. A moment later, though, he smirked.

"I win, you know."


	5. Blood

-

Blood (Light Gary/Petey, placed during game)

-

Petey paled slightly upon seeing the blotches of red seeping through Gary's sleeve. It was near his shoulder, right where the brick that the hobo had thrown landed. Geez, the guy had to have been at least half-drunk, but he still had pretty good aim… But then, angry as the old man had been, good aim probably would've given Gary a concussion.

Jimmy hadn't followed them from behind the bus, and Petey had panicked, but Gary brushed it off; Hopkins would be fine, he said. The guy wasn't a pushover, and could probably take that old deadbeat out in a matter of minutes. Petey wasn't entirely convinced, but he relaxed a little once they were back in the room they shared in the boys' dorms.

"G-Gary…" He murmured, focused on the blood. "Your arm…" Gary glanced down.

"Shit." He tried rolling the sleeve up further, but it just slipped back down again. Growling in frustration, the scarred boy removed his teal vest, unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt and slid the left sleeve down. Petey winced; the bleeding wasn't too bad, but Gary would have one hell of a bruise later.

"Wow. He… uh… Got you pretty good, eh?"

"I could've moved if I wanted to," Gary snapped. "Would've, if I'd seen the friggin' brick… Why the hell do they let that old freak stay out there anyway?" Petey chuckled nervously.

"Why not? The academy's a dump as it is, why not throw in a homeless guy living behind the parking lot?" Gary snorted.

"No kidding. Get me a tissue or something- it's still bleeding." Not a request, but not a demand either. That was surprising, seeing as how Gary seemed to be in one of _those_ moods that day. You know- the type he gets in when he "_accidentally_" forgets to take his meds.

Petey fished around his nightstand for a tissue. Upon finding one, he turned back to face Gary… And let out a choked noise; thankfully, Gary was too busy grumbling to hear it. The taller boy had removed his shirt and tossed it onto the bed, muttering about how damn long it would take to get the blood spots out.

And damn. Gary was _built_.

It wasn't so obvious with the uniform on, and Petey had never figured Gary as the athletic type. He wasn't into sports, rather strategy and cunning. So how in the seven shots of hell had he gotten a body like _that_? Gary cocked an eyebrow at Petey. "Well, Femme-boy?" He asked, shaking Petey out of his stupor.

"Ah- oh…" Petey blushed deeply and held the tissue out to his roommate. Gary gave him an odd look and held the tissue to the injury on his arm. Sheesh- if Gary, after constantly teasing Petey about being gay all year long(and that was just teasing; he had no concrete proof) couldn't figure out why Petey was blushing, then maybe Petey would be able to avoid a little more torment this year…


	6. Migraine

-

Migraine (Edgar/Omar)

-

"You feeling any better?"

"Nnh."

"You want anything?"

"Nnh."

"Aspirin?"

"Nnh."

"That's what I thought."

Normally if Edgar were to pull this crap with him, Omar would've hit him and told him to sit the hell up and speak right. Now, however, was a time for leniency; Edgar had a migraine. For those who've had one before and experienced the pain, it's a word associated with total and utter dread. Edgar was no different.

He had two little brothers, ages six and eight, and a two-year-old, constantly shrieking sister. When you had a migraine, factors such as three younger, loud siblings and a mother constantly yelling at them to be quiet, it was basically like being slammed in the head with a hammer. Suddenly, Edgar felt horribly guilty about beating Jimmy with that steel pipe…

So, when the migraines broke out, he stumbled to the Townie hideout and curled up on the bed there, all the lights off, in total silence, hoping that none of his friends would intrude. Omar, subsequently ended up showing up most of the time. Edgar wondered if he could just sense these sorts of things… Or was simply stalking him.

Whatever it was, Omar would dutifully perch on the edge of the bed, in the dark, and every once and a while ask if Edgar needed something. More often than not, when it was apparent that Edgar was in quite a bit of pain, Omar would feel the need to reach out and touch him. He restrained himself, though- it would only make it worse, or induce the nausea that often accompanied migraines.

Now, Omar tilted his head back and glanced up at the ceiling. It was a tin roof, cracked and battered, with small cracks of light showing. Enough to provide some dim light, not enough to cause Edgar any serious pain. This light wasn't as bright, though, which signaled that it was coming close to sunset.

He glanced down at Edgar- the Townie leader's eyes were still shut, but he seemed to be breathing easier now.  The pain had gone down considerably, it seemed. "Feeling better?" He tried again.

"Kinda." It was a slow, sluggish sort of response, appropriate for one who'd spent most of his day feeling like his brains had been deep-fried. "What time is it?"

"Sundown, I think." Edgar opened his eyes and observed the dark surroundings blearily before turning over to face Omar.

"If you want to go, go ahead," He mumbled. "I'm sticking around until the sun's down. Try to minimize the pain if I can."

"I'll stay."

"Whatever."


	7. Test

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Test (Peanut/Gord)

-

It was a test of patience and control to be around Gord in English class. They'd sat next to each other even before they'd dated (hell, that was one of the factors that had led to their dating), and when Peanut's mind and eyes wandered, they tended to go to the dirtiest places.

If Gord ever noticed that Peanut stared at him during class, he didn't let on. He was too busy trying to get decent grades because, unfortunately, they grade on achievement. While he silently grumbled over that, his Greaser boyfriend took his sweet time devouring the Prep with his eyes.

Anyone would say that it was a pretty bad idea to get this swept up in the middle of class, when there were other people around.

Peanut would say "Screw that."

He and Gord had never had sex before. He, personally, was not a virgin, and had yet to ask Gord if he was one. There was a lot left for his imagination to play with, in terms of… _intimate_ activities. How Gord would look under him… Undressing in front of him… How his lips would feel on his-

"Peanut? Are you all right? You look spacey." Peanut snapped out of his musings abruptly. Gord was staring at him, blinking, oblivious as Crabblesnitch as to what the Greaser had been thinking about. The bell was about to ring.

"Yeah, I'm good."

_Brrrrrriiiiing__!_

Gord waited for Peanut to stand and gather his books. "You sure you're all right?"

_No, actually, I just had a really hot fantasy about the two of us going at it like rabbits. _He thought as they moved into the hallway with the others.

Oh, how he would have liked to say that, and then have it come true. It would be so _perfect_… But no. He had no desire to pressure Gord into sex. "I'm fine, really."  The Greaser settled for a brief kiss on the cheek, and then turned away towards the entrance hall.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a cold shower."


End file.
